


Bulletproof

by gldngrl7



Series: Finding Home [1]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Not the happy ending you're looking for, Post-The Martian Chronicles, nobody dies though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 05:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9641948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gldngrl7/pseuds/gldngrl7
Summary: Mon-El decides to take charge of of his own life.





	

 

 

It happened during his third lunch date with Eve.  She was giggling about something—some piece of pop culture for which he had no frame of reference—when it struck him all of the sudden.  She scrolled through the screen of her phone, only occasionally bothering to look up and meet his eyes.

 

This wasn’t working.

 

None of it.

 

He wasn’t going to forget Kara; not because some cute blond took the shards she left behind and managed to make him feel good about himself for a few minutes every day.  He was just kidding himself.  Kara had wedged herself in deep, though she would clearly like to think otherwise, and no amount of lunch dates with bubbly blondes was going to change that.

 

He needed something else entirely.

 

“Look, Eve…I’m sorry.  I just remembered something I forgot to do.”

 

Her smile melts from her face.  “Oh…okay.”

 

He reached in his wallet and placed a few bills on the table, hoping it was enough to cover the lunch for both of them.  “I’m really sorry.  Goodbye, Eve.”

 

Sensing the finality in his farewell, she sobers completely.  “Goodbye, Mike.”

 

Moments later, he was standing in the conference room of the top floor of the DEO, facing J’onn J’onzz.  “I was wondering if you could do me a favor?” he asked.  His hands were shoved deeply into the pockets of his jeans as though trying to appear as non-threatening as possible.

 

“What’s the favor?”  J’onn wondered, only a single raised eyebrow betraying his piqued interest.

 

“Can you get me in touch with Superman?”

 

“Superman?” J’onn’s eyebrow inched up a notch further.  If the whispers were true, J’onn and Superman weren’t on the best of terms, but Mon-El had no one else to turn to.  “Why do you want to contact Superman?”

 

“If it’s okay…I’d like to keep that between him and me…for now.  Call it a Krypton/Daxam thing.”

 

“Why not just talk to Kara?”

 

“That’s not really…look, can you do it?”

 

Sensing that Mon-El wasn’t prepared to divulge more information, J’onn nodded his head slowly.  “Give me few hours.  Don’t go far – he doesn’t always have a lot of time to talk, as you might imagine.”

 

“I’ll wait here,” Mon-El said, pulling out a chair from the conference room table.

 

“It could be awhile…”

 

“I’ll wait here,” he repeated.

 

He must have dozed off in the chair, because when he opened his eyes the clock on the wall reads two hours later, and J’onn was poking his head in the door.

 

“Your call is on line 1,” the Martian said.

 

Mon-El stared as the phone and the multiple blinking lights as if it was snake about to strike.

 

“Pick up the phone, hit the blinking button that says 1.”

 

“Got it,” Mon-El said, doing as instructed.  “Hello?”

 

“Kent, speaking.”

 

“Mr. Kent…my name is Mon-El.”  On Daxam, lessons on diplomacy had been a part of his curriculum from childhood, and the first lesson was to always begin with respect.  “I don’t know if your cousin has told you about me.”

 

“Of course, Mon-El,” Clark replied.  His voice was warm and friendly, and Mon-El released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.  “I was glad to hear that you recovered from your stasis without any negative effects from the Kryptonite.  I was there when you were unconscious and I was sorry I wasn’t able to be there when you woke up.”  His words sounded genuine, without the tinge of Kryptonian arrogance that Kara’s tone sometimes wielded.

 

“So you know I’m not from Krypton, then?  Because they thought I might be at first because of the pod I was in.”

 

“Daxam, she said.  I’ve been updated.”  There doesn’t seem to be even a hint of prejudice in his tone.  “J’onn said you wanted to speak with me.  What can I help you with?”

 

“I don’t think…I was wondering if…” two hours he spent napping in the chair when he should have been mapping out this conversation.  “Things aren’t exactly working out for me here,” he explained.  “I was wondering if you might…maybe…be interested in being my mentor.  Training me…I mean.”

 

“Train you?  I though Kara was taking care of that.”

 

“Oh, she was—is—but I just think that…you know, she has a lot going on here.  She needs to be spending her time focusing on her new career and on being Supergirl.  I think I’m just a being more of a burden to her than a help.”

 

“I see.”

 

“Do you?” Mon-El asked, because even over the phone Clark Kent’s voice sounded sage and perceptive.

 

“I believe I do.”

 

“It’s just that…as long as I’m here…I’m always going to choose her.”  Mon-El took a deep shuddering breath and swallowed the lump that seemed to have taken up residence in his throat the last few days.  “And that’s not what she wants.”

 

“Are you sure?  Kara can sometimes be—“

 

“I’m sure,” Mon-El cut Clark off.  Beneath his glasses, he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, attempting to erase the visual memories of the other night in the bar.  She had already rejected him once in her apartment a few nights before, but just in case that didn’t stick, she came to his place of employment to twist the knife in even deeper.  A final unnecessary coup de grace to his heart – a killing blow.  “She made herself crystal clear,” he finished.

 

“Hold on just a moment, Mon-El,” Clark said.  Mon-El heard a shuffling sound and the back and forth of muffled voices.  His super hearing skills did nothing to help discern the discussion happening on the other side of the line.  At last, Clark’s voice came back on the line.  “We have a spare bedroom,” the man said, and Mon-El felt the weight the entire world lift from his shoulders.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Kent!  You don’t know how much this means.”

 

“You can call me, Clark, Mon-El.”

 

“Clark,” he repeated, as though trying if on for size and finding it a decent fit.

“I’m going to work you pretty hard.  Put you through your paces,” Clark said, Superman’s voice bleeding through just a bit.

 

“I’m ready,” he promised.  “I won’t try to show you up or anything like that.  And when you say I’m ready, I’ll find my own place.  I hear that Starling City doesn’t have a hero and could really use one.”

 

“We’ll worry about all that later.  When do you think you can get here?” Clark inquired, as though mentally cleaning out the spare bedroom for his future guest.

 

“I can’t fly like you and Kara,” he pointed out.

 

“Get a bus ticket,” Clark suggested.  “It will take you three days to get here, but it’s cheaper than flying commercial, and it will give you time to think and prepare.  Because when you get here, the work begins.”

 

“I’ll do that…I’ll ask Winn how to do that,” Mon-El corrected.

 

“Do you have and Earth name?”

 

“Yes, it’s Mike Matthews.”

 

“Okay, you’ll use that name from now on, including with me…until it becomes second nature.  Until you answer to it without thinking.  Travel under that name.”  Clark rattled off an email address and a private cell phone number, which Mon-El sped to write down on the back of a memo that was sitting on the table.  “In case you need to get in touch with me.  What’s your number?”

Mon-El hesitated, feeling a bit foolish.  “I don’t have one of those communication devices that people are always looking at, instead of talking to each other.”

 

Clark chuckled at Mon-El’s apt description.  “You’ll need to get one.  Doesn’t have to be expensive, just something to keep in contact.  Text me with the number when you have it.”

 

“I will…ask Winn how to do that as well.”

 

“It will probably take you a few days to wrap everything up there, so text me with your travel itinerary, and I will be there to meet you at the bus station.  If I can’t be there, then Lois will.”

 

“Thanks again, Clark.”

 

“It’s my pleasure, Mike.  See you in a few days.”

 

“See you in a few days,” Mon-El echoed, before hanging up the phone.

 

A long meeting with J’onn turned into an argument which finally became reluctant capitulation on the Martian’s part.  As instructed, Mon-El went to a local cell phone store and bought a refurbished phone with prepaid data that he could top up when funds became available.  He would have to worry about finding a job when he got to Metropolis, and with M’gann returned to Mars he no longer had anyone to provide bartending references.

 

Contrary to Clark’s expectation, it took Mon-El a whole three hours to ‘wrap up’ his life in National City.  Winn showed him how to set up his own personal email address and then showed him how to access it on an app on his new phone.  After that, the rest was fairly easy to figure out.  He came from a planet that mastered intergalactic travel, after all.

 

Placing his new phone in his jacket pocket, he asked, “Now, can you tell me how to get a bus ticket?  Do I just go to the bus station and buy it there?”

 

“Oh, a Metro Card?  You can move faster than any bus.  Why would you need that?

 

Mon-El had heard of the Metro Card.  Eve used hers every day to get to and from work.  “Not a Metro Card,” he specified.  “A bus ticket…for out of town.”

 

Winn tilted his head in confusion, but the smile on his face slipped not a single bit.  He spoke through gritted teeth as though not wanting to be heard.  “Where are you going?  And are you even allowed to leave town?”

 

“First of all, I have approval from J’onn, and second – not to worry, I’ll be under the watchful eye of Superman.”

 

“You’re going to Metropolis?” Winn asked rhetorically.  “Why…why are you going to Metropolis?”

 

“For training,” Mon-El replied but offered no details.

 

“Okay.  Well I can buy you a ticket online.”  Winn spins around in his chair, his fingers clattering over the keyboard before it comes to a stop.  “This must be exciting,” he grins.  “Training with Superman!  I mean, Kara’s one thing…but she’s still new at this.  Superman’s been doing his hero thing for like 15 years.”

 

“Yeah, that’s what I hear.”

 

Winn pulls up a website for the National City Port Authority and starts clicking on boxes.  “National City to Metropolis,” he mumbles.  “When do you want to leave?”

 

“Are there any buses for tonight?”

 

Winn turned his head and studied Mon-El’s face.  “Tonight?  Why the rush?”

 

“I want to be on the road before Superman changes his mind,” Mon-El supplied.

 

“Oh, okay,” Winn answered, seeming to accept this as a believable answer.  “There’s a bus that leaves from the Port Authority at 10 p.m., arrives in three days in Metropolis at 1 in the afternoon.”

 

“Sounds perfect.”

 

“Return date?”

 

Mon-El grimaced.  “Undetermined.  I could be gone a while.  Lots to learn and all.”

 

Winn’s fingers came to a dead stop on the keyboard, but he didn’t look up from his task.  “One way…then?”

 

“Yes, that sounds right.”

 

“Okay, it’s going to be $128.65.  It needs to be put on a credit card.”

 

“I have approval from J’onn to charge it to the DEO, as a business travel expense.”  After explaining his reason for wanting to leave in painful detail to J’onn, the Martian agreed to let him go with his best wishes.  Having just suffered a rather painful, but perhaps less brutal, rejection of his own recently, J’onn even offered to smooth over the cost of his travel with the government powers-that-be.

 

“You’re sure I’m not going to get into trouble for this?” Winn asked, his eyes squinting suspiciously.  The skepticism on the younger man’s face was just another reminder of all the reasons Mon-El needed a fresh start on this world.

 

“Positive,” Mon-El nodded.

 

Winn typed a series of numbers into the computer and clicked his mouse a few times.  “Ticket’s coming off the printer now.  It’s barcoded, so when you get there just go to your bus.  The driver will scan it when you board.”

 

“I understand.  Thanks for all your help.”

 

“Oh it was no problem.”

 

“Well, the bus leaves in two hours.  I better get my things together and head over there.”

 

“Take snacks!” Winn advised as Mon-El walked away.

 

Even at normal human speed, it took Mon-El less than five minutes to pack his entire life into a duffel bag.  He remembered a life once when he had more than he knew what to do with, and appreciated none of it.  Now his entire life fits into a single bag and every article clothing, every shoe, every single thing he has collected in the last few months since arriving on this planet was precious to him.

 

Under his pillow sat the guide to National City that Kara gave him soon after his arrival.  It had been a weird sort of welcome gift and its pages were worn and tattered, many of them dog-eared.  The dog-eared ones were places that interested him that he never got around to visiting.  He stuffed it into his bag before thinking better of it and pulling it out.

 

It will serve no purpose in Metropolis, other than to remind him of her smile, her comet-like eyes, the ridiculously adorable way she straightened her glasses and the extreme discomfort on her face whenever she was now forced into his presence.  He dropped the guide back onto the mattress and hoisted the duffel onto his shoulder.

 

“You’re not coming back?  Are you?”  Winn’s voice asked from the doorway.  He stood there there, shoulders slumped, carrying a black briefcase of some kind.

 

“I’m not planning to…no.”

 

“Why?”

 

“National City is covered, Winn.  It’s got Supergirl, the Martian Manhunter and now…Guardian.  That’s a wealth of superheroes.  I’m not needed here.  I’m just a burden on Kara’s time.  She should be focusing on building her career, not training a newbie like me.”

 

‘Where will you go?”

 

“Like I said…Metropolis to train with ‘Earth’s greatest hero’,” he said, clapping Winn on the shoulder.  “After that…I’m not sure.  The Oliver Queen of Earth-38 never returned to Starling City, so that’s a possibility.  Or maybe Central City,” he suggested.  “Kara said that Superman stopped their Particle Accelerator from exploding so our Barry Allen never became a speedster.”

 

“That’s so…far away.”

 

“You have my email address, and when you use it, I will have yours.  I’m told that’s how it works.”  He didn’t tell Winn about the phone, knowing that Winn would provide the number to Kara the instant she asked.  The last thing Mon-El wanted was a half-hearted call from her, asking him to return because she thought that’s what he wanted to hear.

 

This isn’t a temper tantrum.  He’s giving her the space that his arrival on this planet stole from her.  And he’s actively attempting to take charge of his own life, instead of putting those choices in the hands of others.  He’s forging his own path – as any person should.

 

Being near her was awkward enough after he confessed his feelings for her, but after she came to him in the bar and twisted the knife further just because she could, being near her became untenable.  Sure, he could continue to smile and joke and hide his feelings, he’d mastered that, but when this idea presented itself to him, it seemed like a sign.  Something meant to happen.

 

“Does Kara know about this?” Winn interrogated.

 

Unseen to Winn, Mon-El flinched.  It was the one question he had hoped no one would ask, if only so he wouldn’t have to lie to their faces and simply confirm what they’ve thought of him all along.  “Whose idea do you think it was?”  A question with a question.  Technically not a lie.

 

“Why would she do that?”

 

“You know, with Livewire still on loose, things might get hot around here real quick, and between her work and being Supergirl, there’s really no time for her to mentor me.”

 

“Oh,” that seemed to make sense to Winn.  “And the not coming back?”

 

“Like I said…you guys have it covered.  Who knows?  Maybe I’ll even go to another country.  I’ve seen some of your news programs; it seems like there’s a lot of anger and hatred out there.  Good people that need saving.  Maybe the alien superheroes should spread themselves out a bit, yeah?”  Mon-El swallowed around the lump in his throat that didn’t seem to want to go away.

 

“I guess.”

 

“Hey, what’s that you’ve got there?”

 

Winn placed the case on Mon-El’s cot and snaps open the lid.  “I was told to design your suit.  I figured if you’re going to be working with Superman, you would probably need it…eventually.”

 

He flipped open the lid and withdrew a suit, not unlike Superman’s except the color scheme seemed to be reversed.  The cape was royal blue and the body of the suit was the color of a Daxam sunrise, with a yellow belt at the waist.  At the right shoulder, just above where his heart would be is a small glyph for the House of El.  Appropriate, in an excruciatingly painful kind of way, but in others, no less than what he deserved.  “Thank you, Winn,” Mon-El said with genuine gratitude.

 

“It’s bulletproof, by the way.”

 

“Bulletproof,” Mon-El confirmed, with a sad smile.  “Exactly what I need to be.”

 

“Yeah, because of the lead.”

 

“Yeah...because of the lead,” Mon-El ostensibly agreed.  He carefully placed the suit back in the case and snapped the lid closed.  Before picking up the case and turned to his first friend on this planet, offering his hand.  “I’ll never forget everything you’ve done for me,” he said, as he pumped Winn’s hand with a tight, but not _too_ tight, grip.  “Even when I didn’t deserve it.  I wish you all the luck in the world, Winn.  Be careful out there.”

 

“Hey…you too,” Winn responded.  “Tell Superman I said ‘hi’.”

 

“I will,” Mon-El chuckled dryly.  He hoisted the duffel further up his shoulder and bent over to pick up the case.  “Tell James I said ‘bye’.  And tell him that…for what it’s worth, _I_ think you two are doing a great job out there.”

 

“Thanks, man.”

 

“I’ll see you when I see you.”

 

“Roger that.  Hey…aren’t you going to wait and say goodbye to Kara?”

 

Mon-El lifted one side of his mouth in a sad smile.  “Kara and I have already said everything that needs saying, Winn.”

 

“Okay then.”

 

Mon-El walked resolutely out of the room without looking back.  He stopped by the CIC to shake hands with J’onn before leaving, promising to keep in touch.  Despite knowing the ‘whys-and-wheres’, J’onn seemed genuinely surprised to see it happening quite so soon.

 

“Are you sure about this?” J’onn asked, offering the younger man one last out.

 

“It’s for the best,” Mon-El nodded, feeling another weight lift from his shoulders.  “I appreciate you not making a big deal out of me leaving.  I’d like to keep this quiet, J’onn.  Exactly the opposite as the way I arrived.”

 

“Just remember…there’s always a place for you here if you change your mind, son.” 

 

Mon-El appreciated the older man’s offer and the use of a common term of endearment on this planet. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

 

With one last nod, he departed the hustle and bustle of the CIC, stopping by the front lobby to return his ID badge and locker keys to the security guard at the front desk.  He shook the man’s hand and signed out for the last time.

 

****

Livewire popped her head out of self-imposed exile for five minutes and everyone at the DEO scrambled to pull it together in hopes of bringing her down once and for all.  Kara, out chasing a story on gangland beating of a slumlord, received a text calling her in ASAP.  She flew into the top floor landing just moments later.

 

“I had her,” she can hear Winn lamenting.  “I just had her and now she’s gone again.  Off the grid”

 

“Call Mon-El,” she said.  “We’ll do a sweep and see if we can’t get a bead on her.”  It was just a simple recon, she thought, surely they can manage to do that without being awkward.  It took her a moment to realize that Winn was staring at her as though she’d just grown a second head.  “What?”

 

“Mon-El’s gone,” Winn said, as if reminding her something she should already know.

 

“Gone where?” she asked, confused.

 

“You didn’t know, did you?” Winn surmised.  “Crap!  He said you knew; said it was _your_ idea.”

 

“Said I knew what?  What was my idea?” Kara’s heart raced in her chest, panic slicing through her.

 

“He’s gone,” Winn repeated.  “To Metropolis.  Packed his things and left last night on the 10 p.m. bus.  He said you needed to focus on your career and being Supergirl – that you were too busy mentor him.”

 

Her heart dropped into her stomach, her own words at the bar a few nights ago, some of the excuses as to why she could never date him, coming home to roost.  Her awful, unintended and thoughtless words had sent him away. 

 

“He said Superman agreed to mentor him.  I gave him the suit I had built,” Winn said, his tone carrying a tiny amount of pout.  “I’ll never even get to see him use it.”

 

“But…he’ll be back,” she said, refusing to accept the clues that were right in front of her face.  Quite unable to accept that this feeling of loss burning in her chest was something she did to herself.  “He’s just going to be gone a few days.”

 

“I don’t think so, Kara.  He said that after Superman trains him, he’s going to choose another city.  Something about spreading the alien superheroes out.  He said you and Guardian and J’onn are all this city needs.  I think he felt he could more useful somewhere else.  He mentioned Starling City or Central City as possibilities.”

 

But…she needs him here.  She needs him to help save her city and occasionally challenge her when she’s being too headstrong.  She needs him to recognize when she’s in over her head, because sometimes she doesn’t.  She needs him to smile his stupid dimply smile with his beautiful gray eyes that sparkle silver when he laughs, and dull to a stormy gray when he’s sad.  It’s been a lot of stormy gray since the night in her apartment when he confessed his feelings and she let him walk away.

 

Oh, Rao!  The man lost his entire world and everyone he loved, but it took _her_ thoughtless words to turn his eyes from silver to dull gray.  Why was she such an idiot?  And why did Winn know about his leaving when she didn’t? 

 

“He didn’t say goodbye….” She realized, her heart tearing just a little more.

 

“He said you already said everything that needed saying,” Winn mumbled, suddenly feeling guilty for being the one to deliver the blow.

 

Mon-El’s words were delivered like a shiv to the heart, tearing through her like a jagged blade expertly wielded.  Yes…she and her stupid runaway mouth said all that was needed to drive him far away from her.  It must be what he thought she wanted.  Was she the last to know?  “J’onn knew about this?”

 

“Sure,” Winn shrugged. “How do you think Mon-El got in touch with Superman?  His DEO credit card paid for the bus ticket.”

 

She felt…betrayed.  As though they had all conspired against her, which was simply par for course the way her life had been going lately.  Everybody leaves eventually, don’t they?  Moves on to something better or maybe just to someone who wasn’t going to treat you like a good-for-nothing because you just happened to be born on a rival planet.

 

“I helped him set up an email address.”

 

Winn’s word barely penetrated her brain before she was stalking up the stairs to J’onn’s office.  She found Alex already inside, the two of them in what appeared to be a heated argument.  Before Kara could even say anything, Alex forestalled her.

 

“I’m just hearing about this now.”

 

Well at least her own sister hadn’t betrayed her this time.  That was a small mercy.  “You!” she shouted at J’onn.  “You bought him a bus ticket?”

 

“Yes, I did,” J’onn replied, squaring off to face her.  She could practically smell the chemical change that happened whenever J’onn prepared to shift into the Manhunter, hanging in the air between them.

 

It was a wakeup call for Kara, and she felt some of the tension seep away.  If J’onn was preparing to shift, that meant he felt threated by her and that was a hard pill to swallow.  The man was like a father to her.

 

“Why?” she asked, her throat closing with the depth of emotion flooding her system.

 

“I think you know why,” he answered softly, sagely.

 

Kara could see the truth reflected in his eyes.  “He told you?”

 

“I was trying to convince him to stay,” J’onn explained.  “He offered a convincing argument in favor of leaving.  One I couldn’t rebut.”

 

“He can’t be more than a few hundred miles away,” the words rushed out of her mouth, her eyes brightening again.  “I can track the bus and catch up with him.  I can convince him to come back.”

 

“No!” Alex interjected, before her sister would blur out of the room.  “You will NOT go after Mon-El, Kara.  Do you understand me?”

 

Alex used the same tone Eliza had whenever Kara had stepped out of line as a youth.  It brought Kara up short, just by the eerie familiarity to it.

 

“But—“

 

“Leave the man his choices, Kara,” J’onn blurted, a barely constrained anger in his tone.  He sounded like a growling wounded animal on Mon-El’s behalf, and the breath caught in Kara’s chest at the broken misery of it.  “You took his heart and when that wasn’t enough, you took what last bit of pride he had left.”

 

Kara’s hand went to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears.  J’onn had never spoken to her like this—as though he was so disappointed in her he would never be able to look at her with the same eyes.  Is it possible she could lose Mon-El and J’onn in a single day?

 

J’onn continued, not quite done speaking Mon-El’s piece.  “He made the choice he needed to make and he did it for himself.  If there’s any part of you that saw a man when you looked at him, then you would do well to respect it, Kara.  Just as he respected _your_ choices.  Thoughtless or not…you made the choice _you_ made.  Now own it.”

 

“But I can fix it,” she insisted.  “I can apologize.  I can make it right.”

 

“Only time is going to make this right for him,” J’onn contradicted.

 

“But I can,” she denied, tears raining down her cheeks.  “I know I can.  He’s not the man I thought he was.  I know that now.  He’s more…he’s better.”

 

“He said to tell you one thing, if you tried to go after him,” Alex interjected.  She looked at J’onn as though seeking permission to divulge what she had learned just moments before Kara entered the room.  “He said there was one thing that would ensure you would never follow him.”

 

“What?” Kara asked.  “What is it?”

 

“You’re right about one thing; he’s not the man you thought he was.  He said to tell you that he wasn’t a bodyguard to the Prince of Daxam,” Alex revealed.

 

“Duh!” Kara said, furiously wiping at the tears on her cheeks.  “Anyone who ever saw him fight before he started training could figure that out, Alex.  I mean, the guy could barely land a punch, even _with_ super speed.  He probably just faked it to make himself sound more important so we wouldn’t kill him.”

 

“No, Kara,” Alex shook her head, fervently.  “He was faking it to make himself sound _less_ important, probably so we wouldn’t take him prisoner.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Mon-El wasn’t the bodyguard to the Prince of Daxam.  He _was_ the Prince of Daxam.”

 

****

 

He shifted in his bus seat, which seemed to grow increasingly uncomfortable with each passing hour.  It hardly mattered anymore though, since the bus was due to enter Metropolis in a matter of minutes.  The bus, which started out full in National City had made many stops along the way, both in large cities and small towns, dropping of and picking up passengers along the way.  Now, there remained only a handful of travelers, all spaced out throughout the bus’s cabin.

 

His phone dinged again with an incoming email.  He checked, in case it was Clark messaging to let him know if pick-up plans needed changing.  He wasn’t surprised to see that it was another email from Kara.  Like the two others she’d sent, he couldn’t quite bring himself to delete them and so he simply archived them, unread.

 

Perhaps one day, when he’d made his heart fully bulletproof, he’d read them and then…let them go.  But until that day came, communications from her would be filed away where they could do him no harm.  She was, no doubt, angry at him for lying to her about his true identity and wanted to feel as though she was getting in the last word.  Hence the repeated emails.  But secretly she must be relieved, on the inside, to no longer be forced to see him every day. 

 

And that was okay for two reasons.  One, because he wanted her to be happy, and his presence was clearly the antidote for that.  And second, he too was secretly relieved not to have to see her gorgeous blue eyes every day.

 

He would be ready one day, perhaps, to face her again if he must; if a time came when it benefited the world for them to work together.  But until that day he needed to lick his wounds for a bit and figure out who the hell he was now that he was Mike Matthews of Earth instead of Lar Mon-El Gand, Crown Prince of Daxam.

 

The bus pulled into the station and rattled to a stop.  The driver threw on the brake and disembarked practically before it had heaved its last sigh.  Mike stayed rooted to his uncomfortable seat and watched as the other passengers gathered their things from the overhead compartment and departed the bus to claim the larger items stored beneath.  Mike’s duffel was stored above as well, but the black case with its secret contents inside, he kept safely tucked away at this feet.

 

When the last of the passengers had departed, he stood from his seat and gathered his things.  Descending from the bus steps he stood and looked around.  From here he could see the Metropolis skyline, including the apparently famous spinning globe atop the Daily Planet building.  At a kiosk in the National City bus station, he had purchased a guide book to Metropolis and read it cover to cover during the trip.  Dog-earing pages of things he wanted to see.

 

This was his new beginning, he realized with a smile.  His fresh start.  Where no one would judge him by the planet that birthed him, or look at him with suspicion as though one mistake could never be forgiven.  He could make it work here, find a life, or at least the beginning of one.  Metropolis had a superhero and didn’t need another, but the tiny kernel of hope that sprung to life when he first glanced at the skyline made him believe that his choice would lead him exactly where he was supposed to be.

 

When he tore his eyes from the skyline Mike caught sight of him right away, as though they were drawn to each other’s’ molecules.  Atoms created in the same solar system recognizing each other.  He had felt it with Kara too, when the stasis panic had worn off.  He dressed in a tidy bland button up, and a pair of khaki slacks, an ensemble designed to _not_ call attention to itself.  He reached up to his face and resettled his glasses, exactly the way Kara did.  Mike mirrored this action, as though providing the answer to a secret code.

 

He approached the man and held out his free hand.  “Mr. Kent,” he said.  “I’m Mike Matthews.  It’s a pleasure to meet you finally.  I’ve heard a lot about you.”

 

“You can call me, Clark, Mike.  It’s a pleasure to meet you, too…finally.  I’m glad you’re here.”  Clark reached down to take the black case from Mike’s hand and pointed in the direction they would be walking.”

 

“I can’t thank you enough for having me,” he said, his nervous butterflies finally settling down a bit.

 

“Sure you can,” Clark replied, with every bit of his Midwestern charm.  “Keep your room clean.  Lois hates clutter.”

 

“I think I can do that.  As you can see…I don’t have much clutter.”

 

“Just kidding, Mike.  _I’m_ the one who hates clutter.  Lois comes alive in it.”

 

With a chuckle, Clark guides Mike through the bus station’s main lobby and out the front door, where he waved at a red pick-up truck in a line of waiting vehicles.  A woman with long brown hair waved in response.  “C’mon,” Clark said, clapping Mike on the back, “come meet me wife.”

 

He was going to be okay, he realized.  It was going to be hard and there would be times that he would want to quit, maybe even crawl back National City for one more glimpse at her comet-blue blues.  But for now…he hadn’t thought about Kara for almost a full two minutes.

 

Maybe tomorrow he could make it three.


End file.
